Peace Archives | Breaking Away from Monogamy

Late last year when things seemed pretty financially and emotionally hopeless for me, I set a goal; purchase my own piano when I paid off some debt. As I searched for the most budget friendly digital piano it dawned on me that I didn’t just want it to collect dust in the corner. I needed something to work towards, something truly meaningful to me. And that my friends was learning to play Jazz. The soul of the music, the delight I feel when it dips into minor tones and comes back again and the way it just sounds so effortless taking my mind on the most wondrous journeys. It truly is a genre with endless versatility: at one moment fuelling my creative soul, and at another calming my breathing so I can get the deepest possible stretches, then of course there are the songs that linger for days on end touching on emotions I hardly knew were there.

Jazz has been a part of my life pretty much from the moment I turned 18 onwards, when I bought my first Ella Fitzgerald CD and began researching her career and musical evolution. The obstacles she had to overcome just to share her gift was so beyond anything I could comprehend. I grew up in Canada, as a white girl, being told that I could do anything I put my mind to. And here was this woman, with more musical talent than I have in my whole being getting shut out of club, after club simply because of the colour of her skin. Being an 18 year old, idealist surrounded by people of all races, I thought proudly to myself, look how far we have come! Look at how equality has been achieved!

I believed this right up until my half Jamaican niece was born nearly a decade later, and I saw firsthand something shocking, racism in my own backyard. Family members were worried that this little girl was going to have a tough time growing up due to the colour of her skin. They were concerned that life would be so much tougher for her, than for the rest of us. I fought this mentality, and debated with them, that it was their close-minded views projected on her, and that she would be absolutely fine. That this birth was amazing, and she would be given the exact same opportunities as everyone else. I even had heated debates saying that we as a society no longer see colour. I was so naïve.

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A few years after her birth, my cousin called me in a fit of rage, because she took her little girl to the public pool, and a lady asked her where she got her baby. Listening to her experience, I felt the most helpless pain. Then there was an incident a short time later, where a woman threatened to call the police on this amazing mother for apparently kidnapping a child that couldn’t possible be hers. I was horrified. Was this simply a small-town mindset or was something deeper going on? Again, I put these thoughts on the back burner, and proclaimed how proud I was that I didn’t see race. That I could look beyond everything and love this little girl with all my heart and soul.

Over the last few weeks, I have questioned this very painful thought, and am making progress to break away from it. I thought not seeing race was the ultimate goal, but my mind is changing. I don’t want to “not see race”. I am coming to the conclusion that we actually need to celebrate other races, and cultures and include all of these unique attributes into our society with open and loving arms. Embracing the diversity, and finding a way to integrate it as a complex system, rather than striving for us all to one day be the same colour (which I always in my head hoped would magically be purple). And that is when I got an idea, music is one of the most meaningful ways that I have learned about diversity, and the experiences of other people. Why? Because music brings people together. It is an expression beyond words, it is something you feel, and it is something I feel very deeply.

Personally I have a lot of work to do with breaking free of some of the naïve ideals I thought were important, and if you are willing, I will be sharing my journey every few posts. I do not feel that change will happen over night. I see racisms I didn’t even know existed and I want to do as much listening, and amplifying of amazing voices that I can, while at the same time staying true to myself and bringing positivity into the world. Uniting Jazz, into my sex positive blog is the best way I know how to do that. I hope you enjoy listening to the incredible music I am exploring, with my personal focus being artists who are black, and culturally diverse. And let us not forget, that once we are all free to be non-monogamous sexual beings again, that music plays an intrinsic role in sex, and just setting an atmosphere, which when the time is right we will explore together too.

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When I was a young girl some not so lovely people started referring to me as the Ice Queen. It was a nickname born out of my outward coldness and reserved nature. In short, I built a wall around myself, as many children from broken homes do and I gave off a vibe of isolation and an emotionless demeanor. This is a persona that haunted me well into my early 20’s. At the time, I chose to embrace this being, this ice queen. I used the cold, and calculating comfort that this identity provided me to explain my lack of tears, and my almost holier than thou attitude. I didn’t have time for foolish games, my young self would decree, I was a queen, and nothing could penetrate my icy heart. Whenever I was feeling down or lonely, I could snap into this character and find a calm sense of power and control. Queen’s don’t cry, especially in front of the plebs (I lament that I only learned that word recently and never actually got the chance to use it on the playground!).

So why now, when I am the happiest I have ever been in my life, does this painful memory pop into my head? Because as it turns out, this is my default when something unexpectedly painful arises in my life. I go into cold, survival mode, and nothing can get in. My defense mechanism is my Ice Queen identity.

I found out a few days ago that one of my great aunts passed away, quite suddenly. And while that in of itself is painful, it is not what triggered me. The catalyst was in fact the text message from my mom, the person I had not had any communication with in more than 4 years. I cried for my aunt, and my grieving grandparents. But then, the well of tears just dried right up. There was a cold, protective shield that went up in light of the message from her. It was like reading a message from a complete stranger. You quickly scan, glean the information and then process the information at face value. It was like she was a messenger pigeon and not the person who helped give me life.

I felt confused. Really, seriously out of sorts. How was it possible that this person had become a complete stranger to me? Is this what happens to normal people when they have a falling out? Do they just become acquaintances or less? And what’s more, was I guilty that this had happened? What was my next move, if any?

And then, just as quickly as my brain started to wind up, it calmed (with the help of my sister of course). The wave of uncertainty was replaced by something wondrous. Something I didn’t know was even possible. It was peace. Simple, calm, elegant peace. I’m left knowing that there is no right or wrong, or regret or lament, or really anything else. I made a decision that brought me peace and comfort. And the ability to live my life to the fullest, without an anchor judging, shaming or holding me back in any way. I am free. I am also grateful, to the Ice Queen inside of me. I recognize now, that in the face of uncertainty she will be there, she will not let me fall apart. She will keep me whole in the face of adversity. I can count on her years of strength and support when I could very easily be overcome with emotion and lose control. The fear, that used to give me pause, is gone. And while I am grateful for the calm reminder that the Ice Queen will always be a part of me, I am hopeful that I will not have to rely on her for many years to come.

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